Way Down South
by Voodoo-Mutant-Child
Summary: Charles, Sean and their friend, Jay find themselves on a hunt for the one, the only Remy LeBeau. Set sometime during First class.


_Eh._  
_I think I enjoy writing Charles Angst a little too much. Hehe. Here's a little_  
_something I thought up while I was down in Cajun Country. We got a little_  
_turned around in Leesville then we went up and down through Iberville it_  
_started feeling like home. There was a tiny one horse town here and there_  
_and...ugh. Things were so weird...but we got into Baton Rouge and things got a_  
_little better._

_We also did find a Kickapoo Corner actually...haha Louisiana was great. I miss_  
_it. I miss the Cajun country, the Cajuns, the food the swamps...I just miss_  
_the tiny towns... The food...crawfish are surprisingly good. We didn't_  
_actually get to New Orleans this year. Maybe some other time_

* * *

What they were doing at the tiny gas station on Kickapoo Corner Charles confessed he didn't know. He honestly had no idea how they'd entered this Parish a few miles back, the name had been lost along the way. It was August and he realised that no one in the white Cadillac had any tolerance for the heat. He himself was about as red as Sean's t-shirt, that was plastered to his skin, Jay however looked rather indifferent. He was driving, and had worried someone was going to die of heat stroke, he finished filling up the car and pressed a cold water bottle against his forehead. "Goodness..."  
He tossed Sean his water and the kid grinned weakly. "Thanks. Can we please just find this...Remy LeBeau guy and scram?"  
"Easy Sean, New Orleans is about a hundred or so miles from here. Hopefully night will bring a reprieve and we can find a motel."  
Jay moaned, "If you'd let me drive we could get there in...like an hour."  
"Have you even seen the police stopping people?" Sean asked as Charles pulled off into the road.  
"It's like they're...everywhere!" he finished.

Two hours, ten empty water bottles and two bathroom breaks and three gallons of sweat later...

"Bourbon street." Charles announced, wiping his sweaty brow with a napkin that had long since gone transparent. "Finally."  
Sean peered into a window aquarium. "COOL. Live crawfish!" he exclaimed, waving Jay over.  
"Ew! It kinda looks like Charles, doesn't it?" she said, pointing to the mound of bright, red boiled crawfish next to them.  
Charles rolled his eyes, "I'll find this LeBeau, person, you two can...mingle."  
"Uh huh." Sean said as he wandered off, Jay in tow.  
"Met back here in...Two hours, LeBlanc's Market!" he shouted after them.  
Sean waved back and Charles sighed. God forbid they return with any...beads. No, wrong time of the year. But still, it could happen.

He stopped worrying and started searching for this LeBeau guy, he'd heard so much about. He noted he was getting some pretty odd looks from the locals, not that he could blame them at all. He'd stare too. He searched as many minds as he could, without frying his own brain. Then he found what he was looking for.  
He found Remy sitting at a Craps table surrounded by a dozen cowboys and hookers.

Remy Etienne LeBeau was a lean, muscular young man, no more than eighteen, with long, auburn hair, tanned skin and a pair of shades. He wore a tight fitting t-shirt, that showed off every muscle in his stomach and chest, and a pair of tough denim jeans, all of this topped off by a pair of cowhide leather boots.  
He looked up as Charles approached, "Do sit down, Marshmallow." he practically purred.  
"Are you Remy LeBeau?"  
"Do ah owe y'money?" He had a very thick Cajun accent.  
Charles shook his head, "No." he couldn't help but accept the shot of vodka offered to him. He was here, why not enjoy himself a little? He downed it quickly.  
Remy grinned, "Den Remy LeBeau ah am. Who are you?"  
"My name is Charles Xavier." he refused a second shot.  
"And...?"  
"And, we need to talk, privately." Charles added quietly.  
Remy sighed and got up. Charles noted the bo staff leaning against the table.  
LeBeau motioned him to follow, Charles could practically feel the guy's suspicion radiating from him. He knew it was stupid to follow the guy to this section of town. And th- He found himself shoved up against the wall. "Who the hell are you and how d'ya know mah name?" Remy demanded.  
"Ah, I-I can explain." Charles insisted frantically.  
"Better explain quick, Chuck. I don' got all day."  
Charles nodded quickly and coughed as Remy let him go. He could faintly see a red glow behind the sunglasses Remy wore. "Inknow what you are." he panted, "Because I'm like you, different. A mutant."  
Remy backed up a little, "Oh? And what can you do, Pansy?" he asked, crossing his arms. He was tense, as though he expected Charles to throw a building at him or something.  
*I have the ability to read and communicate with you, via your mind.* he said calmly in Remy's head.  
*Don't be alarmed, I'm here to help. I have a place, in London where mutants can be safe. I have friends here...*  
"Ah see...Well, Mon ami, you can hop into your little jet plane and go flyin' back home, cuz' Ah'm not gonna leave mah home fo' some crack head."  
Charles could see it was pointless to argue with this guy and sighed, "When you tire of hiding, find me." he called, and it seemed to him that LeBeau hesitated.

It was an hour or so later when Jay found Charles. The guy was slumped over a chair. "I found him, Sean!" she called.  
"He okay?" Sean asked worriedly.  
"He drank a little too much..."  
"Was it his choice?"  
They both looked down when Charles groaned and sort of rolled off the chair.  
"You tell me." Jay mumbled, "Help me get him on his feet will you?"  
They tossed Charles in the backseat and managed to find a motel. The Bates Motel was what Sean said it looked like, but it was only Cajun Ed's Inn. They got a couple rooms and left a note on Charles' nightstand and turned in for the night.

"Never...never...never again!" Charles groaned; his head in the toilet. Sean stood by with a clean shirt.  
'By the way you're puking up your guts, I'd say you've never had a drop of vodka in your life." He said.  
Jay was in the bedroom laughing, "He hasn't!"  
"She's right...I'll stick with Coors..." Sean rolled his eyes and tossed him the shirt. "Take a shower and get dressed, please? We're hungry, gonna see what the cuisine's like here."  
Charles grumbled but obliged. He couldn't wait to get home.


End file.
